


A spoonful of snuggling

by elletromil



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Sickfic, Suicidal Thoughts, brief mention of - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 06:39:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15067355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elletromil/pseuds/elletromil
Summary: Hank is dying.At least it feels like he is, but in truth, he's just very sick. Luckily, Connor won't leave him alone in his time of need.





	A spoonful of snuggling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BouncyBrittonie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BouncyBrittonie/gifts).



> Detroit is my latest obsession and I am shipping Hank and Connor HARD. Seriously, they check so many boxes on my list of 'why i ship two characters together' it's unbelievable.
> 
> And I'm lucky enough that Britt is down the rabbit hole with me so here I am spoiling her with fics.

Hank is dying.

He wishes he could say it’s because he’s been shot in the line of duty but that cannot be further from the truth. He’d even settle for the unavoidable heart attack, way past the point of caring about how insufferable Connor would be about it for being right about the effects of his diet on his health.

No, he’s dying slowly and painfully in his own bed, taken down by the common cold. His throat feels raw, he’s pretty sure he’s coughed up his fucking lungs at one point, his mouth taste like Death’s asshole and he’s so sore that even rolling over in bed is enough to bring him to tears.

For the first time in months, for the first time since a bit after Connor walked into his life and refused to fucking  _go away_ , for the first time, he seriously contemplates taking his gun out and shooting himself out of his misery.

It’s only the thought of Connor coming to check on him and finding him in a pool of his own blood that stops him. Connor’s more android than most deviants, but he still feels. And for some inexplicable reason, he’s decided that Hank was his  _friend_. Someone to trust and care for and Hank is a bastard but he’s not  _that much_  of a bastard. Causing Connor such distress isn’t worth the sweet relief from this horrible pain in the ass of a cold.

It’s crazy how his life is now made up of things he  _will_  do  _for_  Connor and things he  _won’t_  do  _to_  Connor.

Of course, the few times he actually stops and  _thinks_  about it, he has to admit that even if Connor is a driving force in all the changes he’s done in his own life, he’s done it for himself first. Yes, he strives to become the person Connor thinks he is, but that’s because he  _likes_  that ideal. He’s been learning how to be happy at simple things again and if it comes with the added benefit of having Connor smiling with him, well changed man or not, he’s still a greedy bastard. He’ll take everything he can get.

He doesn’t realise he’s fallen asleep until he startles awake when Sumo barks once to welcome Connor home. At least, he assumes it’s Connor. If it’s not… Well frankly, with the way the Devil himself is drumming in his head, he doesn’t really care who the fuck is in his house as long as they let him die in peace.

He drifts from sleep to consciousness for a while until the door to his bedroom opens up slowly and Connor peeks into the room. He smiles when he notices that Hank is awake and Hank can add feverish to his growing list of symptoms because that’s the only reason the stray thought about how CyberLife must have designed androids after angels rather than humans crosses his mind.

The smile is soon replace by a small frown that would go unnoticed if Hank wasn’t an expert at reading Connor by now. It doesn’t take an expert to know why his partner his worried though. When he left last night Hank was already sick, but he wasn’t at Death’s door like he is now.

“I was coming to announce that dinner is ready, but I think it would be more advisable if I were to bring dinner to you.”

Before Hank can say anything, Connor has left. He’s not alone for long though, Sumo taking advantage of the opened door to saunter in and jump on the bed next to Hank.

Sumo must feel there is something wrong because he doesn’t slobber all over him for once and he keeps to the other side of the bed without whining.

The warm weight next to him is comforting after wallowing all day and really, he doesn’t know why he didn’t think about it earlier. Sure it wouldn’t stop him from  _dying_ , but it’s nice to have a physical reminder that there’s at least one creature on this damned earth that gives a shit about him.

Of course that’s when Connor comes back and shoo Sumo off the bed. Hank would be mad, except Connor is taking his place and he finally notices the tray he’s got in hands. He’s pretty certain he doesn’t actually own a tray so where Connor got it from is a complete mystery, but it’s one he’s more than willing to ignore for the sake of what is  _on_  the tray.

It’s chicken soup and some crackers, nothing fancy, but it smells heavenly to him. Anyway, it’s not like he could stomach anything else in his current state.

“Do you require assistance sitting up and feeding yourself Lieutenant?” Connor is teasing, Hank knows it, if only because he never uses his title when they’re not at work, but that doesn’t stop him from glaring at the android.

He might be dying, but he still got some dignity.

It takes a bit longer than he would prefer, but he manages to sit up and take the tray from Connor without incident. He’d continue to glare at him, but one taste of the soup is enough to make him forget his miserable state for a second or two. He might have moaned too, but he’s not going to ask Connor to confirm whether he did or not. Not when he could be having more of that amazing soup.

“I take it the soup is up to your standards?” For a moment, he considers ignoring Connor, but after a quick glance, he realises that the android is somewhat anxious. As if he seriously cannot tell that Hank is having a near-orgasmic experience in his mouth right now.

“Connor. That soup is single-handedly bringing me back to life. I’d say it’s up to my standards yeah.”

He rolls his eyes for good measure, but doesn’t miss the way Connor bites his lower lip in a way Hank knows is to stop himself from smiling too wide. He also ducks his head a bit, shy pleasure and soft pride radiating from him.

“I’m glad my efforts weren’t for nothing, even if we both know that what you are feeling at the moment is mostly psychological. You are still as sick as when you started eating and-”

“Connor. Shut up.”

Connor does and it should be awkward having him stare while he’s eating, but instead it’s familiar,  _comforting_.

The soup is done before long and Connor doesn’t wait before taking the tray away and getting up. Hank thinks he’s leaving but instead no, he’s putting the tray down and coming around to help him lie back down. And really Hank’s not an invalid, he can do that himself, but it’s really nice to be taking care off again.

He was a kid the last time someone tucked him into bed and he wouldn’t say he’s missed it, but he also doesn’t complain when Connor does it for him.

And then, right before he stands up again, Connor does something entirely unexpected.

It’s quick, the pressure barely felt on his heated skin, but there is no denying what just happened.

Connor just kissed his forehead and if he was human, Hank just knows he would be blushing.

And really, Hank'S too sick for this shit, for these turning points he can’t remember why he’s been letting pass by, but there is one thing he knows for sure and it’s that he doesn’t want to be alone tonight.

“Connor?” His partner freezes in his bedroom doorway, hands clenched on the tray, a tension in his body Hank longs to soothe. “Stay the night?”

He’s never asked before, never could bring himself to, not when he it could mean rejection or bringing awkwardness in their partnership, their  _friendship_ , but it’s easy to find courage when he can blame it all on his fever tomorrow morning.

“Of course Hank.”

Hank is a bit shocked when Connor still leaves after that but he hears a faint clatter in the kitchen and he remember the tray and yeah, of course Connor wouldn’t just abandon it on the floor. Especially not when Hank is actually making efforts keeping his house clean nowadays.

Then Connor is back and for a moment Hank wonders what he’ll do, if he’ll just stand there watching over him or if he’ll at least sit in the bed.

He doesn’t even consider the possibility of what Connor actually does until he does it, how he just slips into bed next to him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. How he wraps his arms around him and it’s been so long since Hank’s been held like this, so long he hasn’t even noticed he was  _craving_  it.

And Hank is still sick like a dog, but somehow, with Connor at his back spooning him, he still sleep better than he’s ever had in  _years_.

Though that won’t stop him from denying they were ever spooning with his dying breath.


End file.
